Ashara's Fall From Grace
by The Phantom Belcher
Summary: A headstrong Jedi Padawan on Taris is tempted to the darkness. Will she manage to remain a Jedi, or will she embrace the darkness lurking inside her and become Sith?
1. Chapter 1

**If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.**  
 **\- Sun Tzu,** ** _The Art of War_** **, III.18**

* * *

"But Master Ocera, why is Master Sun's treatise not suited for Jedi? We're fighting a war against the Sith; surely his words on warfare - which are studied on Carida, Coruscant, and Dromund Kaas alike! - are ..."

"Ashara," the older Human Jedi told his young Togruta student calmly, "you just undermined your own argument. These words are studied by the Sith, not the Jedi. They are the words of a soldier, for those without the Force as an ally."

"But Master, the treatise makes so much sense! Otherwise, why would they teach it at the Republic Military Academy?" the young orange-skinned Togruta nearly whined. "We have to drive the Sith back with everything we have!"

"Be careful of your emotions, Padawan," a Cathar male stated calmly, stepping beside Master Ocera. "This ancient pre-Republic work is studied by soldiers on both sides of the conflict, as you have said, but the author was not a Jedi, nor I suspect even a student of the Force in any way. Be careful with his words. He speaks of calling your side to anger; that is a path to the Dark Side."

"Yes, Master Ryen," Ashara said, nodding her head in respect. _I don't care what the Masters say,_ she thought to herself, _this work will help us defeat the Sith. If the Jedi had studied this better, the temple on Coruscant wouldn't have been sacked._

"I didn't think we had a copy of this work in our enclave archive," Ocera mentioned, taking the datapad from Ashara's hands and studying it. "Where did this come from?"

"I bought it in the Olaris settlement," Ashara admitted, blushing in a bit of shame.

Ocera handed it back to her. "Sell it to a soldier the next time you're there," the man told her. "Now go meditate on our reasoning for a while, and on why this does not apply to Jedi."

"Yes, Master Ocera." Ashara nodded and walked off down a corridor.

"I fear that girl will dive headlong into disaster when the opportunity rises," Ryen told his colleague after he was certain the young Togruta was out of earshot.

"As do I, old friend" Ocera replied, his eye lingering on the passage Ashara had disappeared down. "As do I."

* * *

Ashara fumed with pent-up frustration. She knew she was disobeying her Masters' orders, but instead of meditating she had instead entered the training room of the enclave, activating six of the training droids. She kept the lights low; the only real light came from her two blue lightsabers and the six blue, green, and yellow blades of the droids.

"Not suitable for Jedi," she grumbled aloud as she fought the droids. She flipped over one, burying her blades in its back, before moving her offhand blade to intercept the incoming green blade of one of the others. She felt a tug in the Force, and in an instant surrendered herself to its will, moving her blades in a defensive position as a second blade attacked from an angle out of her eyesight. A twist of her wrist later, and that droid's lightsaber hand flew through the air. She didn't see where the lightsaber landed, as she ducked low and spun, both arms out, deftly slicing three of the droids' legs in half at the knee joints, and then as they fell she sliced their weapon hands off.

The last droid picked up the lightsaber of one of its fallen comrades. Ashara smiled to herself, her species' predator teeth visible in the blue light of her sabers. Very few droids had been programmed for Jar'Kai; this one apparently had been. Blue met green and yellow repeatedly, as the droid took the offensive, forcing Ashara to back up slowly as she deflected its blades with her own. After a few seconds, she realized that the droid was deliberately attacking her weapons' blades directly.

"You're flynning, droid," she scoffed, and took the offensive. She feinted with her right-handed saber, as she flipped her left-handed one to a reverse grip. The next second, the droid's head detached from its neck and flew through the air, bouncing off one of the walls as her left-hand blade met it. She paused for a moment, then turned to the droid which was continuing to stand.

"This is where you fall down."

As if taking that statement as its cue, the droid literally fell apart.

A slow clapping caught her attention as she extinguished her sabers. She spun to face the newcomer, and groaned. "Varek," she scoffed. "Come to witness a real duelist in action?"

"No," the dark haired human boy replied calmly. "Master Ryen said I needed to practice my saber techniques."

"Let's spar then," she challenged him. "You _have_ learned to **not** cut off your own head with your lightsaber, right?"

"Don't be like that, Ashara," he replied with a sigh. "Yes, you can defeat the masters and make it look easy. No one here can beat you with a saber. But even you were a beginner once."

"Fine then," she told him, clipping one of her lightsabers to her belt, and adjusting the settings on the other one. She ignited it, holding it in her left hand. "I'll even go easy on you; it's set to stun, and I am not left-handed."

Ashara stood there, almost ignoring the kid as she effortlessly moved her saber to block his clumsy attacks. At one point she even yawned. "Remember," she told him as she continued to deflect his attacks, "study your opponent. In war, the way to victory is to avoid what is strong and to strike at what is weak. Where is my defense weak? Strike there now!"

"Ashara, enough!" Master Ocera's voice called out before Varek could move. "You were told to meditate, not taunt your fellow students." Both Padawans stopped in their tracks; Ashara extinguished her saber before Varek followed suit.

"But Master Ocera, I wasn't embarrassing him this time!" Ashara whined. "Well, not too much," she finally admitted under Ocera's harsh glare. "I knew where he was going to strike next anyway," she explained as Ocera continued to stare at her, "and was about to grab his wrist as he tried." Varek blinked at that, then scowled.

"Ashara, we will discuss your philosophies towards victory at another time," Ocera told her. "For now, just return to your meditations." Slumping her shoulders, Ashara skulked off. Ocera turned to Varek, and told the boy, "You're improving, but the point where Ashara let you think was her weak spot was really where it was strongest."

"How did you know?" Varek asked.

"I felt it in the Force," the Jedi Master explained. "The Force will let you see where and when to strike to disable your opponent. The Force is your ally, not a tool or servant, and will always grant you victory. Learn to trust in the Force, and you will be unbeatable."

"So Ashara trusts the Force that much more?" Varek asked.

"Not always," Ocera replied calmly. "She shows too much emotion when she fights, but only through elimination of emotion can one truly commune with the Force."

"Then how did she beat you last week?" Varek asked. Master Ocera placed his hand on Varek's shoulder, and shook his head.

"I let her," came the measured reply, but something in his voice made Varek question whether his Master was truly admitting the truth.

* * *

Ashara sat crosslegged on a flat stone in one of the enclave's meditation rooms. She felt something strange in the Force as she meditated.

 _~~She stood on a planet with an orange sky and brown foliage. A man, a red-skinned Zabrak with black facial tattoos, stood next to her, while another man, a human, stood hovering over a pair of corpses. With a growl, Ashara launched herself at the human, igniting a pair of red-black blades as the Zabrak shot lightning from his hands..._

 _~~The ice cavern shook, as her Zabrak lover (Why did she see him that way? Jedi don't take lovers!) fought at her side against a group of alien pirates. She grinned as the final one fell, then she kissed her lover passionately._

 _~~A clearing in a conifer forest in the mountains, as she stood over the body of the Jedi she had just killed. "You are no Jedi either," she said coldly, "sitting here meditating rather than fighting." Her eyes blazed yellow._

 _~~She felt the Force flow through her, burning hot, as she felt the life disappear from her victim. In front of her, Varek gasped for air, hovering in mid-air and clutching at his throat, before his neck snapped. "Weak!" she spat at him._

Ashara's eyes popped open, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "No," she sobbed. "No, say it's not so," she cried. Standing up, she searched the entire enclave for either of the masters. She found both of them in the practice room, where Master Ocera was sparring with Varek. To Ashara's distaste, it looked like he wasn't even challenging the student. Meanwhile, Master Ryen was busy repairing the droids she had demolished earlier.

"Master Ryen, I need to speak with you."

"This can wait until later, Ashara," Ryen told her. "You're supposed to be meditating. Return to it."

"That's just it, Master," she continued. "I saw something while meditating, something that scares me."

"And we can discuss it later, Ashara," the master told her. "Hand me that hydrospanner?" With a sigh, she did just that, handing him the tool. "There is a time for everything, Ashara. We will discuss this vision you had later."

"But Master...?" she whined.

"Enough, Padawan," Ryen chastised her. "This whining of yours is unbecoming of a Jedi. Go back to meditation, and we'll discuss this _later_."

"Yes, Master," she sighed, walking away. Ryen didn't even spare her a glance as she walked away, engrossed as he was in his work. None of them heard Ashara's comlink chime . . . .

* * *

"Ashara Zavros?" the male Zabrak figure on the holocomlink asked. "I discovered an item which I believe might be of interest to you: a holocron of some power."

Ashara frowned, instantly wary. The Zabrak on the holo appeared quite similar to the one from her vision. "Who are you?" she asked, a hint of suspicion in her voice. "How did you know my name? What makes you think I'd be interested in a holocron?" She inwardly grimaced as she let that last item slip. _Still,_ she thought, _he's kinda cute._ She tried to banish that line of thought from her mind

"Holocrons are incredible sources of knowledge," the Zabrak mentioned. "Jedi value knowledge, do they not?"

"'There is no ignorance, there is only knowledge'," she said, reciting by rote a piece of the Jedi Code. She shook her head slightly, almost imperceptible over the holo (or so she hoped). "But some knowledge is too dangerous for Padawans." _Stars!_ she thought, _I sound like Master Ocera!_ "Why call me? Why not take this holocron to one of the Masters; Ryen or Ocera?"

"Aren't you a Jedi?" the Zabrak on the other end asked her. She felt a swirl of emotion surround her. "Why should you have to defer to them?" The questions took her by surprise.

"Uh, um . . . Well, yes, I am a Jedi," she affirmed. _Maybe, just maybe,_ she thought, _bringing the Masters a holocron would show them I'm worthy of the trials. Still, better to be cautious, given my vision earlier . . . if it was true._ "But even if I was interested," she continued, "I shouldn't leave the base."

"This is your chance to show your Masters that you're worthy of handling such a delicate item," he told her.

She blinked. _Could he be reading my thoughts from here? Or am I just that obvious?_ "You're right," she admitted, "I can prove myself." Her voice was firm with determination. "I'll come. Just tell me where to meet you."

"I'm sending you the coordinates of an enclave in the swamps," the Zabrak told her. Underneath his figure, she read the projected coordinates, and smiled.

"Yes, I know the place," she said. Indeed, she had scoured the place hundreds of times looking for a few medical holocrons that had been lost there a year before, before locating them. She hadn't gotten to handle the holocrons, though; Master Ocera had actually collected them. "I'll meet you there as soon as I can. If the Masters ask, I'll tell them I've gone to train." She hated lying to her Jedi Masters, but this, she figured, was for the greater good.

The holocomlink died off. Ashara took a few deep breaths, gathering her courage. Still, she figured, it wouldn't be the first time she'd snuck off into the Tarisian swamps to train under less than ideal conditions.

"And it sure beats meditating on a cold rock for twenty hours," she muttered. "I wonder what that little Mon Cal is up to? We used to get into so much trouble together, before I got shipped to this rock."

* * *

I'm pretty sure most people by now have figured out where this is going. I haven't yet figured out a name for my future Darth Nox. (My own Darth Nox in SWTOR is a Miraluka female, but I wanted to pursue a mutually dark side romance story.) Unlike other tales, which are from the Sith Inquisitor's point of view, I figured I might as well make Ashara the point-of-view character, focusing on the instances where she decides to follow her own path, and then ultimately choose to be a Sith rather than Jedi.

I adapted Sun Tzu to being a Pre-Republic Jee'dai Ranger, making him a predecessor or contemporary of Master Rajivari. It kinda makes sense for Ashara, who started off pushing 'we have to fight the Sith with everything we have' would study military treatises. The Jedi being a primarily monastic order wouldn't want impressionable Padawans to study it, though the militaries certainly would.


	2. Chapter 2

_**All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near. Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him.**_  
 **\- Sun Tzu, _The Art of War_ , I.18-20**

* * *

Ashara ran easily through the Tarisian swamp. At first, the rakghouls around the abandoned medical center came after her, but Ashara submerged herself in the Force, letting it guide her blows. Still, she couldn't help but feel a bit of enjoyment in her actions as her blue lightsabers sliced through her enemies. The thought of enjoying slaughtering rakghouls, which could turn any human - she wasn't sure if this included near-humans such as her own Togruta species - into one of them with a bite or scratch didn't disturb her; on reflection, however, she found herself slightly unnerved by the fact that the enjoyment didn't disturb her the way she was taught it should have.

Eventually, however, she came to the location indicated, a metal bridge which had recently been rebuilt across a ravine. There were no rakghouls in this area, Ashara reflected on the area as she approached it warily; she'd spent more than a few weeks here during her training helping to hunt down a set of Jedi medical holocrons that had been lost in the ravine a year earlier. Sadly, she reflected that she had not been permitted near the holocrons, but she remembered them: small cubes glowing with an inner white light.

As she waited, she saw a male Zabrak approaching her, no doubt the one who had contacted her earlier, accompanied by two others. Then it hit her: he was the same one from her vision! Her heart skipped a beat, but she couldn't decide whether it was fear or anticipation. Instead, she focused on him, studying him as he and his companions approached. He stood a few centimeters taller than her, she estimated, and looked fit. She guessed that he was about her age, roughly twenty galactic standard years. His black facial tattoos formed an intricate pattern, and a number of small bone horns surrounded his head, and his close-cropped brown hair. He wore lightweight black armor, over which he wore a long-sleeved black woolen robe. Clipped to his belt was a lightsaber with a slightly curved hilt. She felt the swirl of the Dark Side surrounding him; in many ways, she figured, he looked like the stereotypical Sith, save for his ancestry. _What is it with Sith and the color_ _ **black**_ _?!_ she thought.

One of the Zabrak's companions looked human, but with an intricate facial tattoo on his olive skin. A pair of blasters sat in holsters strapped to his legs, easily where he could draw them and shoot in the same action. He had a relaxed-yet-alert look to him; Ashara could tell he was constantly scanning the area. She could sense that while he was not Force-Sensitive, the Force was not blind to him. He did not use the Force, but were his actions entirely his or did the Force guide him without him knowing? Ashara was certain it was the latter.

The Zabrak's other companion was a hulking gray-skinned brute in a loincloth and little else. His? Her (maybe?)? Its? ... Ashara decided on 'Its' for now ... Its face was that of a serious predator, a mouth full of teeth that looked like it could become unhinged. The Force was nearly silent around it . . . no, not silent, more like the Force around it was being sucked towards it! Realization struck as she recognized its species - a Dashade, a legendary species that fed on Force-Sensitives! The stronger a being was in the Force - Light or Dark - the bigger the meal for a Dashade. Other than the loincloth, the Dashade wore a bandolier across its chest, with the handle of a vibroblade sticking up over his shoulder. She sensed a connection between the Dashade and the Zabrak; the Dashade was somehow bound to the Zabrak as a slave! She marveled at the connection; how had someone managed to bind a Dashade to him?

Still, a Dashade could mean only one thing:

"Sith!" she called out, stepping forward. "I should have known this was a trap! You won't take me so easily! Even Master Ocera can't beat me with a lightsaber!" She didn't know why she let slip that last bit, but she wrote it off as an attempt to intimidate him . . . or maybe impress him? Her heart skipped another beat; she wasn't sure what she felt for this Zabrak Sith.

To her surprise, the Zabrak held up his hands in a gesture of peace, or possibly surrender. The Dashade grumbled something which sounded disparaging.

"I'm not here for a fight, Ashara," the Zabrak told her. Still, she felt ill at ease; the Force was trying to tell her something, but what?

"Fine, you know my name," she growled. "Do you have a name, Sith, or should I just keep calling you that?"

"My, such fire, such passion," he replied to her with a chuckle. "Those are Sith qualities." He smiled at her with warmth. "If you must, call me Kal. Lord Kallig, actually, but I prefer Kal among my friends."

"We're not friends, Lord Kallig!" she growled at him. _A Lord!_ she thought to herself. _At his age? While I'm still a Padawan? It's not fair!_

"Not yet, my fiery Padawan," he told her with a disarming smile.

Of course, the human to his right couldn't help but butt in. "Smooth, Kal. Real smooth." Ashara immediately placed the accent: Corellian. That explained at least part of the Force's interest, she reflected. Still, his comment made her blush slightly.

"Of course, I did agree to deliver something," Kal told her, reaching into his robe and pulling out a small pyramid which glowed red. "The holocron."

"That doesn't look like any holocrons I've seen," she told him warily.

"Well, that's because it's a Sith holocron," he explained. "They look different, but they operate the same way." He levitated it towards her. Reaching out with the Force, Ashara grabbed it in mid-air and set it down in the palm of her hand.

"It's so light," she remarked as she studied the holocron. "I expected it to be heavier." A sudden wary thought struck her, which she felt compelled to give voice to. "How do I know it's not a fake?"

"Why don't you take a look inside?" Kal replied. "Go on, activate it. I can wait."

Realizing he was calling her bluff, while at the same time curious about what a Sith holocron could teach, she reached out with the Force and activated the holocron. From the small capstone on top a fifteen centimeter tall hologram of a Sith Lord appeared. "Behold the teachings of Darth Angral, Lord of the Sith!" the hologram proclaimed. It then seemed to focus on her. "Ah, another alien acolyte. Tell me, young one, what is it you wish to know? History of the Sith? Secrets of the Force? Lightsaber techniques?"

"Everything!" she breathed, not quite knowing where to begin with Sith holocrons. "I mean, I've had Jedi training, but..." The holocron scoffed at this.

"Jedi training! Pfft! Then you've only scratched the surface." The hologram seemed to consider somthing, then continued. "Listen closely, acolyte, for the first thing to learn is to _forget_ most of the Jedi Code! (The line about knowledge is true; the Jedi did get that part right.) Repeat the Sith Code with me: Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion I gain strength. Through strength I gain power. Through power I achive victory. Through victory my chains are broken! The Force shall free me!"

Ashara felt something move through her as she began to recite and reflect on the Sith Code. She had never fully agreed with the idea that to be a Jedi should mean detaching themselves from emotion; she also knew that the Sith used the Dark Side, but to learn the Dark Side was tied to emotions and passions was an eye-opener. She mulled the Sith Code through her head a few times, not realizing that she was muttering the opening phrase aloud over and over: "Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Peace is a lie, there is only passion." She shook her head, her lekku twitching. "No! What am I saying?" She felt her inner fire, the one the Jedi Masters kept warning her about, begin to rise and smoulder. Instead of stamping it down, however, she hesitated, pondering whether to accept it. That was all it took. "Is this what the Dark Side feels like?" she asked as the fire filled her.

"You'll never learn!" a new voice called out. She looked up towards the voice; out of the corner of her eye she saw Kallig and his companions turning toward it as well, their hands reaching for their weapons. A red blade ignited in the shadows, followed by a half dozen others. A young man stepped forward. "My master wants that holocron, Jedi. Hand it over."

"Or what, you'll kill her?" the Corellian remarked dryly.

"Oh no," the new Sith replied. "She'll die anyway."

"Don't count on that, sleemo," she growled, igniting her lightsabers. Anger and hate filled her; the words of the Sith Code flashed in her mind: _Through passion I gain strength; through strength I gain power; through power I achieve victory._ The words resonated with her readings of Master Sun's ancient warfare treatise.

 _Use your anger, but don't be blinded by it,_ came Kallig's voice in her head. She slowly nodded, as she used the Force to swiftly close the distance to the newcomer, a shout escaping her lips.

* * *

The fight was short and brutal. Ashara leapt forward, as the Dashade drew his sword and charged. Kallig and the Corellian gunslinger stood back, assaulting the new Sith with highly accurate blaster fire and Force-generated lightning.

Ashara let the Force guide her actions, but the anger of the interruption and the simmering resentment she now acknowledged was directed at the Masters at the enclave fueled her blows. Her lightsaber strikes were stronger, more accurate, and - as she had to admit when one attacker's head went flying as it disconnected from his shoulders - more deadly. Each death created fear in her enemies; she could feel the Dark Side inside her feeding off the fear, granting her even more power. The feeling was, she had to admit, intoxicating.

Finally there was only one Sith - other than Kal - left. The others could not approach him or hit him, as Ashara's savage attack kept her in close combat with him. She kicked him in the stomach, causing the Sith to bend over. Deactivating her one lightsaber, she slipped behind the Sith and wrapped her arm around his neck. She sensed rather than saw his next attack, and moved her still active lightsaber up to intercept it, removing both his hands and cauterizing the stumps. She let go of him as he collapsed in pain to his knees.

"Please, Jedi, fellow Sith, don't kill me," the wounded Sith begged. Something in the man's voice broke through to Ashara's Jedi teachings.

"Of course," she told him. "The Jedi way is mercy."

"That is unwise," Kal chided her. "His master will kill him - or worse - for his failure." He turned to the wounded Sith. "Just who is your master?"

"Lord Deceptus," came the pained reply.

"I know of him," the Dashade said, in a surprisingly feminine and human-sounding voice, though distorted by the Dashade's gravelly vocal cords. "He's loyal to Darth Thanaton. His people have probably been following us since we got off the shuttle."

"Zash..." Kal sighed, then turned to the Dashade. "When I want your opinion, I'll tell you!" Kal raised his hands and released a torrent of lightning into the Dashade's body, until it growled and said something in the deeper voice from earlier, something Ashara couldn't translate. "We'll discuss that later, Khem."

 _Fascinating,_ Ashara thought, though not sure what she was seeing. _Were there two personalities, perhaps two_ minds _inside the beast?_ She turned to Kal. "Master Ryen says mercy has risk," she told him, attempting to steer the conversation back to the wounded Sith at their feet. "It wouldn't be mercy otherwise."

"What do you care?" Kal countered. "He's just another worthless Sith. Defeated by a Jedi Padawan, he's clearly weak."

"Weak, perhaps," she admitted. "But..."

"If you let him live, he'll only kill again, maybe even make another attempt at your life," Kal explained. "Do you really want that?"

Ashara thought through the options. There was no way she could carry him to any Republic outpost, not with rakghouls around. He would probably be killed - or worse, turned into one of the beasts - en route. The enclave also was out of bounds. Letting him walk away would result in exactly what Kal had said: the Sith would be tortured or killed - probably both - and if he didn't die would go on to kill again. Before she realized what had happened, she'd re-ignited her lightsaber.

"Forgive me," she whispered. _There is no death, there is the Force,_ she silently told herself, raising her lightsaber for the killing blow. She lowered it, and the blade sliced off the Sith's head. It rolled onto the ground, looking up at her with a defeated look on his lifeless face.

"Those who beg for mercy generally don't deserve it," Kal stated to no one in particular. He turned to Ashara. "How did that feel?"

 _How_ _ **do**_ _I feel?_ she thought. She examined her handiwork. The knowledge that she had killed a defenseless man in cold blood didn't horrify her the way she'd been taught it should have. "That felt ... right." She could sense a bit of pride inside him. "Powerful," she continued. Emotions swirled around her. "It shouldn't, but it does." She sighed. "The Jedi won't have me back now, after what I've done. If word of this gets out..."

"I won't tell if you won't," Kal said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You have the potential to be a very powerful Sith. Let me teach you to harness that power, to use the Dark Side. Leave the Jedi behind."

"I..." She closed her eyes. Her vision from before flashed through her head. "What is it you want from me?"

"Your ancestor," Kal told her. "The ghost in the Jedi enclave. I need to speak with him." Ashara could sense that there was more to it than that; that he had greater plans that included the ghost. But... Yes, Kal was a Sith, and had proven to have something of a temper, but ... she'd always been told Sith were liars, but running every conversation through her mind she could find no hint of a lie.

"The ghost. Yes, of course." She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Whatever he had planned could be beneficial to the enclave, assuming his plans included removing the ghost, but could also be less benevolent. _Better,_ she thought, _to minimize the potential damage._ "I'll go on ahead, make sure there are no Jedi around." Seeing his curious look, she added, "You won't want them interfering."

"Beautiful and intelligent," he told her. She felt another flush rising through her cheeks. "I'll meet you there."

 _What have I gotten myself into?_ she asked herself as she turned and started running back through the swamps. _I'll make sure the other Padawans are elsewhere,_ she determined, _but Masters Ryen and Ocera need to be told to expect a guest..._ As she ran, an image entered her mind of standing next to Kal gazing down at Ocera's corpse, and she shuddered . . . but in fear, or excitement? She couldn't be certain.

 _Either way,_ she decided, _better to not let them sense my use of the Dark Side._ That was one thing she knew in her heart they'd never forgive her for.

* * *

Sorry about the wait for this chapter.

As you can see, I combined the two ways to convert Ashara, though changing the reason the assassins were after her from being hired to do so to tracking Darth Angral's holocron for their own master.

Feedback is appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**The enemy's spies who have come to spy on us must be sought out, tempted with bribes, led away and comfortably housed. Thus they will become converted spies and available for our services.**  
 **\- Sun Tzu, _The Art of War_ , XIII.21**

* * *

Once back at the enclave, Ashara immediately encountered Master Ocera and Varek on their way out the door. Ocera spotted the red pyramid in her hand and opened his mouth to chastise her, but she interrupted him.

"No time, Master," she told him. "There's a Sith coming here, maybe in the next few minutes. Varek," she ordered, "gather the other padawans and take them into Olaris, **now**."

Stunned by this statement, Ocera hesitated. Varek, though, just had to look in her eye before turning and running back into the enclave, rousing the younger padawans there. Ashara felt a surge of pride. _He may not know how to hold a lightsaber,_ she thought, _but he'll be a wonderful leader one day._

"Is the Sith after that holocron?" Ocera asked, breaking her from her reverie.

"Not him," she replied, "though there are other Sith after it. The Sith who gave me this - as a sign of good faith - wants to speak with my ancestor." Quickly, as they began walking through the enclave, she related her encounter with Lord Kallig and the attack by Lord Deceptus's men, leaving off her activation of the holocron and her own use of the Dark Side. Varek paused slightly as they passed him, listening for a bit before leading a large group of teenage and preteen Jedi trainees to a waiting speeder.

"And then he killed the Sith I wounded and asked me to arrange a meeting," she finished.

"You did the right thing in sending Varek and the others to the settlement," Ocera told her as they entered the enclave's main hall, a twenty meter wide square room with a ten meter tall ceiling and several staircases up to a balcony level halfway up. "Your actions may have saved their lives. Master Ryen and I will _dissuade_ this Lord Kallig from meeting your ancestor."

"You'll need my help, master."

"Patience, Ashara," Ryen cautioned, joining them. Ashara started to explain the situation again, but he raised his hand to silence her. "I heard everything through Ocera's comlink. I sense much confusion in you, padawan. You are not yet ready for this trial." She started to protest, but he again interrupted her. "Don't start. I sense he is not just after your ancestor's lessons, but you as well. Let Ocera and I handle this." He held out his hand. "And I'll take the holocron for safe-keeping."

Ashara hung her head in defeat. "Yes, Master Ryen," she said as she handed over her...the holocron. Part of her wondered if she would be able to stand aside if - no, she corrected herself - _when_ Kal and the masters began to fight.

Not fifteen minutes later, Kal and his companions entered the enclave's central room. Ashara could sense her masters' apprehension, especially the way the Cathar master kept glancing nervously at the Dashade.

"I'm sorry, Lord Kallig," she told the Zabrak, "I couldn't do everything you asked."

"I'm not upset, Ashara," Kal told her. "Old ties are tough to break off." Despite his words, Ashara could hear the disappointment in Kal's voice, and felt as though a knife was twisting in her gut.

"You were right to tell us, Ashara," Ryen stated. "Sith are not welcome on Jedi grounds, and this one in particular gives me an uneasy feeling."

"I suppose we could always blame my misspent youth," Kal quipped. Ashara couldn't help but chuckle at that. Despite herself, Kal's dry wit was endearing him to her further. The Dashade - Khem, Kal had called that personality, she reflected - rumbled something impatiently. "No," Kal told it, "stay back for no. You too, Andronikos." _That must be the Corellian's name,_ Ashara thought. "So our intelligent and beautiful blue-eyed padawan told you my plans," Kal continued, addressing the Jedi masters. "Did she also tell you she used the holocron."

Ashara's heart seemed to stop. She had deliberately omitted that part, and her use of the Dark Side it had led to. Not to mention she had lied about . . . .

"Did she tell you she murdered a man in cold blood as he begged for mercy?"

Ryen said nothing at first, but Ashara could tell he was trying to close himself off to being sensed in the Force by others. From Ocera, on the other hand, she felt a wave of disappointment, betrayal, and a hint of anger.

"Enough!" Ryen suddenly exclaimed after an uncomfortable silence, igniting his lightsaber. "I will handle Ashara's disciplining for that later."

 _'Disciplining'?_ she thought, anger swelling in her chest.

"For now," Ryen continued, "leave this place, _Lord_ Kallig, or the consequences shall..."

"Be what?" Kal replied with a smirk. "You'll kill me? I've 'died' once already. I have another eight lives left, I'd say; how many do _you_ have left, Cathar?" Ashara's eyes went wide. _He's died once already and come back?_ she thought.

Further thoughts on the subject were turned aside as the Cathar Jedi leapt at Kal, only to be tossed back - along with Ocera and Ashara - by a thunderous shockwave. All three Jedi kipped up, Ocera igniting his lightsaber as well. Not wanting Kal to face both masters at once, Ashara made a fateful decision. At the same time, she felt the anger and frustration at the masters from the last few years surge inside her. She reached out with the Force and froze Master Ryen before he could attack Kal, lifting him off the ground for a few seconds as she ignited both lightsabers. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Khem and Andronikos were remaining out of the fight; maybe even betting on the fight, given that the Corellian had pulled out a credstick.

"Skipped straight to 'punishment'?" she asked him, venom dripping from her voice. "Not even an inquiry, master? You were going to punish me on the word of a _Sith_?"

"I misspoke..." he tried to explain.

"No, you spoke quite clearly," she scoffed. As Ryen recovered from his imposed stasis, Ashara growled and savagely attacked him, her lightsabers and his clashing in a whirl of blue light as she felt the Dark Side fuel her strikes. "My whole time here, you and Ocera have done nothing but hold me back!" she accused him. "The only reason I'm here is because of my Sith several-greats-grandfather. I'm not a padawan to you; I'm a jailer and a prisoner all in one!"

Ryen stepped backwards with every blow, shifting his stance to one of pure defense, relying on the Soresu style to counter Ashara's attacks. Indeed, Ashara's superior skill, twin blades, and unleashed Dark Side fueled ferocity meant he could do little else. "It's not like that..." he began, attempting to reason with her.

"No, it **is** like that!" she growled, interrupting him.

The cry of a man screaming in agony reverberated throughout the complex. Ryen risked a glance over his shoulder and flinched as Ocera's charred corpse landed with a sickening thud on the ferrocrete floor. Seeing his distraction and guided by the Force - Light Side or Dark Side, she didn't know or even care at this point - Ashara sliced off his lightsaber arm above the elbow before impaling him in the gut with her other lightsaber.

"Why?" he asked, falling to his side on the floor.

"Khem," Kal told the Dashade, "this one is yours to feast on." Ashara couldn't watch as Khem picked up Ryen, dislocated his jaw, and began to eat the Cathar Jedi head-first. Kal turned to her as she fell onto her knees, the adrenaline of the fight leaving her and the realization that she was responsible for her master's death causing her to collapse and start crying. "You've done well, my fiery apprentice," he told her, placing a hand on her shoulder from behind. "You've broken your chains and are now free."

"Free?" she asked. "I killed my master! The Jedi will never stop hunting me now. How is that 'freedom'?"

"You are free of the Jedi's restrictions," he said softly. "You are now able to decide your own path."

 _He sounds so serene,_ she thought. _So wise. No wonder he's a Lord and I'm still a... no, what am I?_

"Would you truly have been happy here" he asked her, "living a life devoid of emotion? One of serving people who don't respect you, or possibly not even deserving of respect, who see you as little more than a tool, a _slave_?" The way he spat the last word made Ashara wonder about his past.

She considered her options for the future. _I could turn myself over to the Jedi, contact the Council on Tython, and let them decide my fate. After all,_ she figured, _it is the_ Jedi _thing to do, except . . . I don't feel much like at Jedi anymore._

 _I could leave Taris, leave the Jedi behind me. Hang up my lightsabers, take a ship, change my name, maybe recolor my monstals and lekku to avoid recognition. But after that... what? Become a smuggler or bounty hunter? Work as a spice miner, live a life of obscurity? Jedi training doesn't give much in the way of marketable outside skills._

She sighed. _The Jedi are going to hunt me for turning to the Dark Side anyway, believing I've gone over to the Sith. Is that the only path open to me that makes sense?_

"I guess I don't have much choice, my lord," she told him, standing up. She turned and bowed her head to Kal. "I just ask that you not make me go against my Jedi teachings. What is it you need me to do, my master?" Kal gave her a cold, satisfied grin as he looked in her eyes, cupping her chin with his hand. She closed her eyes as he drew her closer. _He's going to..._

"Summon your ancestor."

Ashara blinked for a few seconds, shaking her head as if to clear out spicewebs. With a soft, "Yes, my lord," Ashara sat down on the ferrocrete floor, focusing through the Force. Several minutes passed, until the ghostly image of a male Togruta in his prime, with montral and lekku markings similar to Ashara's, appeared in mid-air.

"Child!" the ghost called out. "I told you never to summon me again."

"I'm sorry, grandfather Kalatosh," she replied, trembling with fear, "but this Sith needs to speak with you."

"I don't care about the silly games of Jedi and Sith anymore," the ghost chastised her.

"But it's import-" she began, only to have her protest cut off as she picked up the soft footfalls of a lone figure approaching on the balcony above. She turned her heard to look up; Kal, Khem, and Andronikos all followed her sight. Even the ghost of Kalatosh Zavros seemed interested.

"Well done, my lord," a particularly swarthy man stated, slowly clapping in a rather obnoxious manner. Ashara scoffed at the man's audacity; although she could sense the man was Force-sensitive, she didn't feel much raw power inside him. _Hells,_ she thought to herself, _I'm pretty sure even_ Varek _could beat him in a fight!_ "Thank you so much for clearing out the Jedi for us."

"Elios Maliss," Kal growled. "If this is what I think it is, know that I _don't_ take kindly to betrayal."

"I'm sorry it had to end this way," Maliss sneered, "but you were dead, and Darth Thanaton made me a very generous offer. He's made me a lord."

"Ashara, your first official lesson," Kal stated, as Maliss kept giving a wholly insincere apology about having to kill them. "Most Sith _will_ turn on each other. Thanaton is my enemy, the one who unsuccessfully killed me earlier. That makes him and this sleemo lackey of his your enemy as well."

Ashara made her choice. Before anyone, especially the swarthy Elios Maliss, could react, Ashara leapt at Maliss, igniting her lightsabers in mid-leap. Maliss's head separated from his shoulders, falling forward as Ashara dropped back down to the floor.

"A clean and merciful kill," Zash's voice came from Khem's body. "He didn't deserve it."

"Why waste time on slime like him, Zash?" Andronikos asked. The Zash personality didn't have any answer.

"Child!" Kalatosh asked, turning on Ashara. "What is this bloodshed in my grave?" He started walking towards her. Ashara started to stammer out a response, but he interrupted her. "Any apology is worthless! Now you die!"

"No," Kal stated, imposing himself between them. There was a crackling of energy between them, and Kalatosh's anger seemed to subside. Ashara watched in wonder.

"Strange," the ghost muttered to himself. "How long has it been since I felt at peace? Centuries?" The ghost turned his attention to Kal. "What do you want that you went through all this effort to speak to me?"

"Your power," Kal replied evenly. Ashara's eyes went wide with wonder. _What does he mean by that?_ she thought.

"Ha!" the ghost responded, "You don't have the ability to overwhelm me." That's when things got weird, even for a Jedi living on the ruined world of Taris, who had seen people transform into rakghouls. The ghost shuddered, as Kal reached out and literally drew the ghost of Ashara's ancestor into himself, the ghost disappearing into Kal in a swirl of blue-black Force energy.

"Kal! What did you just do?" she asked. _Is this why he's a lord? Can all Sith learn that?_

"I claimed the power that was rightfully mine," Kal replied.

"What happens now?" she asked hesitantly, not quite sure if she had made the right choice. _Still,_ she decided, _I could learn a lot from inside the Empire, and if Kal's going mostly after other Sith instead of Jedi, I could do some good there I couldn't otherwise. If he'll still have me._

"Now," Kal said, stepping closer to her and taking her hands into his, "we return to my ship, and your Sith training begins in earnest." He picked up the holocron of Darth Angral from where Ryen had left it, in a corner, and handed it to her. "You will need this, apprentice."

* * *

Well well well, some would expect that this is the end of the 'fic, but things are just beginning!

Ashara isn't full-on Sith yet, but she's angling that way. Expect a bit of denial about her place in the scheme of things before she goes, "Well, if you think I'm a Sith, _then a Sith I shall be!_ " I see her as envisioning herself as a Gray Jedi, rather than a Dark Jedi or Sith, at least at the present.

Next chapter, I intend to start splitting the point of view character between Ashara and Varek, who returns to the enclave to find his masters dead (one mostly consumed), the headless corpse of a stranger, and Ashara missing. Varek is one of those characters that we don't know much about; all we know of him from the game is that he is no match for Ashara as a duelist, but given her claim of defeating Ocera we can assume that she is on par with the Jedi Knight or Sith Warrior class as far as her saber technique goes. My idea for Varek is to make him more of a KOTOR2-style Jedi Sentinel, more of an investigator/skill-monkey than a straight duelist/Guardian type like Ashara. So, should I have him use a single blade or double-bladed lightsaber, and what color do y'all recommend?

(Oh, and her Force-choking Varek and snapping his neck in the first chapter's vision may or may not come true. Always in motion is the future, after all...)


	4. Chapter 4

The Taris Jedi Enclave was deathly silent as a lone figure entered, closing and securing the door behind him. Once the door was secured, he dre back his hood and started walking slowly toward the main hall. Varek let his eyes wander across the hall as he surveyed the carnage.

"Master Ocera?" he asked, kneeling beside the master's charred corpse. Reaching out, he laid a hand across Ocera's face, closing the fallen man's eyes for the last time. As he did so, the Force spoke to him . . . .

 _~~ Ocera's lightsaber flashed, blocking and absorbing the Zabrak Sith's lightning, until the lightsaber's hilt exploded, overloaded. The Sith continued to pour lightning into the master..._

 _No!_ he thought. "What happened here?" _And where are Ashara and Master Ryen?_ Inwardly, he feared that both had fallen to the Sith. Of Ashara, he could find no trace, and that worried him. His worry grew as he came across Ryen's severed arm; the rest of Master Ryen was conspicuously absent. Picking up the arm reverently, he listened to the Force.

 _~~ Ashara sliced off Ryen's lightsaber arm above the elbow, then impaled him in the gut with her other lightsaber. "Why?" the Cathar gasped as he fell..._

"No!" he cried out. "Ash, how could you? Why'd you do it?" No further answers were immediately forthcoming, so he continued searching the hall.

On the mezzanine, he found the body of a man he didn't recognize. The man's head sat on the floor not far away, eyes wide and mouth in an "O" shape, as if cut off mid-sentence, or simply taken by surprise. Gingerly, Varek touched the man's chest . . . .

 _~~ "Darth Thanaton made me a very generous offer; he's made me a lord," the man sneered. On the floor below, a male Zabrak said something he couldn't hear to Ashara, as a Human man and a Dashade looked on. "I'm terribly sorry, but part of the deal calls for your death, my lord. I'm sure you understa-" He was cut off as Ashara leapt at him, slicing with her lightsaber, anger evident on her face..._

"No, Ash!" Varek exclaimed, staggering backward from the strength of emotion in the vision. He closed his eyes and attempted to calm himself. _She's falling,_ he thought. _She killed Master Ryen in a duel..._ He shook his head. _No,_ he corrected himself, _she only stabbed him in the abdomen and removed his arm. It's possible to survive both, with medical treatment. I need to know..._ His eyes turned to the ceiling in the opposite corner. _Of course! The security holocameras!_

* * *

A few minutes later, Varek stood beside a table in the enclave's archives, watching the security holo of the incident.

 _So Master Ryen_ did _attack first,_ he thought. _And Ashara ... I can't imagine what's going through her head right now._

In stunned silence, he composed a report to the Jedi Council, adding in his visions and appending the security footage. He paused for a moment before sending.

"I'm the most senior Jedi here," he said to himself. "Taris is no place for the younglings; I'll need to take them to Tython." Inwardly, he was relieved he had left the younger padawans at the Olaris settlement, as he knew they weren't ready for the carnage he'd witnessed, but he knew he couldn't leave them in the Army's care for much longer. Soldiers, he concluded, were generally ill-equipped to handle Force-wielding kids and teenagers.

* * *

Ashara was apprehensive as she set foot on Lord Kallig's _Fury_ -class light corvette, the _Dark Ghost_.

"What am I doing here?" she asked herself aloud. "I'm not Sith." She stopped herself from denying that she was a dark-sider; she knew her recent actions wouldn't back up the denial.

"You chose to come with me, apprentice," Kal told her, as he and the ship's droid, which had identified itself as 2V-R8, gave her a tour of the ship. "I don't care if you call yourself a Jedi, Sith, or something else altogether. They're just labels; what matters are the choices you make."

"So," she asked after a brief hesitation, "how does this work? My being your apprentice and all?"

Kal directed her to sit on one of the central lounge's chairs, taking a seat opposite her. The Dashade - Ashara couldn't be certain if Khem or Zash was in charge at the moment - stood nearby. Not seeing anywhere else to put it for the time being, she placed the holocron on the nearby dejarik table.

"Mostly," he explained, "I'll be teaching you how to channel your emotions into power. That said, you'll need to learn how things work in the Empire. As my apprentice, your authority over my power base is second only to myself. On the other hand, my enemies will target you as well, trying to weaken me by killing you or converting you to their service."

"Thanaton will no doubt try and kill you," Zash commented. _Well, that answers that,_ Ashara thought to herself, relaxing slightly. In the short time since she'd met the Dashade, she was less apprehensive around the Zash persona than she was the Khem one.

"Who is this Darth Thanaton?" Ashara asked, "and what did you do to make him want to kill you?" Kal and Zash exchanged looks. "The truth," she said coldly, giving them both a hard stare.

"Darth Thanaton is one of the apprentices of Darth Actis of the Dark Council," Zash explained. "Actis is the head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge, which includes the Reclamation Service, and Thanaton is a stickler for tradition. One of those traditions is that the power base of a 'disloyal' Sith is to be 'dismantled'; in his mind that's just a euphemism for 'everyone killed'."

"That's just a waste," Ashara commented with a sour look on her face.

"That it is," Kal agreed. "My master was under Thanaton, and tried to kill me to gain my growing power. I survived; she ... did not." Ashara was certain there was more to the story, but she kept quiet and let him continue. "Thanaton declared her disloyal and tried to have me killed on a number of occasions, nearly succeeding the last time, though he didn't reckon on the ghosts I'd bound to me already saving my life."

"That's why you wanted my ancestor! You're gaining power for your next confrontation!"

"Perceptive as well," Kal told her, smiling. "You'll go far as a Sith."

"But my lord," she asked after a moment, "doesn't this infighting among the Sith weaken the Empire? I'm surprised it hasn't imploded already."

"It is the Sith way," Zash started to explain, but Kal interrupted.

"One other reason Thanaton wants me dead is that I plan to help reform the Empire. I _will_ sit on the Dark Council one day, where I will be in a position to start making changes to policy, punishing large-scale infighting severely."

"A bold and ambitious plan," Zash commented. "And the first I've heard of it."

"You never told me all _your_ plans either, Zash," Kal grumbled.

"I don't suppose the Dark Council will go along with your reforms," Ashara said after a moment's reflection.

"A few of them might surprise you," Zash commented. The Dashade walked over to the lounge's central holostation and played with the controls. A trio of figures appeared, one wearing a visored mask over his face. The other two were an older male Human and an older male Sith Pureblood.

"Darth Marr, head of Defense of the Empire and senior-most Dark Councilor," Zash explained, pointing to the figures in order. "Darth Mortis, head of Law and Justice. Darth Vowrawn, head of Logistics. All three we can count on for support, as they have each pursued these same goals, though with limited success, mostly inside their own spheres."

The figures changed, showing two Human men, the second with cybernetic implants and a Human woman who, even on a still holoprojection seemed to have a playful demeanor. "Darth Vengean, head of Military Offense. Darth Ravage, Diplomacy and Expansion. Darth Zhorrid, Intelligence. All three are wild cards, each with their own agendas and not people we can count on. My sources indicate that both Vengean and Zhorrid won't last the year; Vengean's likely replacement - his apprentice, Darth Baras - has ambition and no sense of loyalty to his own underlings, or his master. Zhorrid is just insane." Ashara shuddered looking at the image.

"Of the rest of the Dark Council," Zash concluded, "most are involved in power plays against each other."

"It'll be an uphill battle, and won't be fought overnight," Kal finished. "I need to gain power, binding more ghosts to me, and kill Thanaton. I've also got to start luring his power base over to my cause."

"Aren't you just engaging in the same infighting you're fighting against?" Ashara asked.

"Yes, yes I am," he admitted. "But the short-term infighting is sadly necessary to achieve my long-term goal. I hate to sound juvenile about this, but Thanaton started it when he tried to kill me after ... my master was removed from the picture." Ashara nodded slowly. She didn't fully understand things yet, and determined to meditate on these revelations. Her thoughts were interrupted by a change of topic.

"I understand it's a Jedi rite of passage to build their own lightsabers," Zash remarked, turning her - Ashara could no longer think of Zash as an "it" - attention to the Togruta. "Did you build yours?"

"No," she replied. "These were given to me when I arrived on Taris." _I think Master Ocera built them,_ she thought sadly, holding one up and studying it.

"Then you should build your own," Kal told her. "In my quarters is a collection of adegan crystals; go ahead and select a pair, then take the time to build lightsabers that reflect the real you."

"In the meantime, I - _**ARGH!**_ " Zash began, only to scream as Khem took control of their shared body. It growled something in its own language which Ashara thought sounded like relief.

* * *

Varek paused at the entrance to the Jedi Temple on Tython. A week had passed since he'd left Taris, a pack of younglings in his care, and upon arrival had had a group of Jedi Masters take them under their tutelage. While making sure none of the younglings had wandered off in the orbital station, he'd received a message, an order phrased like a polite request to attend a meeting of the Jedi Council.

So there he was, standing ill at ease at the doors to the Temple. He ran through a brief calming exercise in his mind; it wouldn't do to let the Council see his nervousness, even if they could sense it in the Force.

At the top of the dual ramp in the massive central hall, he once again ran through his calming exercises. Taking a deep breath, he entered the Council chamber.

The Jedi Council chamber was a large, nearly circular room dominated by a circular table, the centerpiece of which was a holoprojector. As he feared and expected, the projector was replaying the security footage he'd salvaged from the Taris enclave.

From her seat on the side, Grand Master Satele Shan stood up to greet him. A hero of the Great Galactic War, Varek estimated her age to be around sixty standard galactic years, though he couldn't be sure; she moved with the grace of a woman half her age. Others he recognized: Tol Braga, the Kel Dor negotiator; Jeric Kaeden, the current Battlemaster; Syo Bakarn, one of the longest-serving Masters on the Council; Bela Kiwiks, a soft-spoken red-skinned Togruta woman; and Master Oteg, a small green-skinned Master less than a meter tall whose species - the name and homeworld of which they kept closely-guarded secrets - had produced a series of Jedi Masters going back almost to the Order's beginnings. Of those, only Oteg was not physically present, appearing only as a hologram. There were a few others he didn't recognize.

"Welcome, Padawan Varek," the Grand Master said, her voice clear and strong. "Thank you for joining us."

"We've been reviewing your report on the loss of our Taris enclave," Master Bakarn said. "The loss of Masters Ryen and Ocera at the same time is unfortunate..."

"Say it like it is, Syo," Kaeden told him. "It's a tragedy."

"More tragic is the loss of Padawan Zavros to the dark side," Tol Braga commented, "though with care she might be redeemed."

"Another one of your pipe dreams, Master Braga?" Kaeden scoffed.

"No one is beyond redemption to the Light Side of the Force," Master Braga chastised his compatriot. _I wonder if he includes the Sith Emperor in that,_ Varek thought to himself, not believing it possible.

"Which brings us to you, Padawan," Master Kiwiks said. "You not only took it upon yourself to investigate when you felt your masters become one with the Force, but you also cared for and brought the younger padawans back to Tython. Such a sense of responsibility at your age should be commended. If they were here, I'm sure Masters Ryen and Ocera would be proud of the man you've become, and the actions you've performed."

"Therefore," Satele finished, "it is with great pleasure that this Council bestows upon you the rank of Jedi Knight."

Varek just stood there for almost a full minute, stunned to silence as he took in their words. "Masters," he finally said, "I'm honored, but I never passed my Trials. My lightsaber skills are..."

"Irrelevant," Master Oteg told him. "I haven't used a lightsaber in over two hundred years. You do not need to be a lightsaber duelist to be a Jedi. More important than a lightsaber is your thorough and inquisitive mind, and you've proven to have the Force as an ally."

"Master Oteg speaks for all of us," Satele told Varek. "Still, a word of advice: do not mistake caution for cowardice, nor arrogance for confidence."

"One last thing, Knight Varek," Master Bakarn told him. "I understand if you want to take a few days, maybe even build your lightsaber at the Forge, but this is a time-sensitive matter. This 'Lord Kallig' is an unknown to us. We need you in the field finding out more about him and this ability of his to bind Force Ghosts. Do not engage him directly - nor Ashara Zavros, especially if she has indeed become his Sith apprentice."

"Yes, masters." He bowed.

"We've arranged for a small hyperspace-capable shuttle for your use," Bakarn told him. "Good luck."

* * *

On board the _Dark Ghost_ , Ashara sat in meditation in the ship's cargo hold. A pair of lightsaber hilts hung suspended in mid-air, slowly assembling themselves. Unlike her previous lightsabers, these had a slight curve to their hilts.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and stood up, grasping her new sabers and igniting them. The blades gloed crimson, lighting up the dark hold, with a black core sometimes visible through the red, depending on how she held them.

The young Togruta smiled. _Finally,_ she thought, _a pair that feel_ right _in my hands._

Behind her, standing in the doorway, Kal smiled darkly . . . .

* * *

Okay, so no Sun Tzu quote this time, sorry. I'll see about adding one in later.

I originally had a lot more planned with Zash giving exposition on the rest of the Dark Council, naming each member and what sphere they control, but I cut it because it seemed unnecessary at the moment; I may give a full rundown later, but only if it becomes relevant. I noted that Darth Zhorrid wouldn't last; apparently, her seat (previously Darth Jadus's seat) was empty during the Chapter III endgames, when the Wrath and Darth Nox fought in the Dark Council chambers. This establishes that Darth Jadus did not have Zhorrid killed by Cipher Nine, though it is likely the rest of the Dark Council would kill her later on.

Thoughts are certainly appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

Varek reflected on how strange it felt to not only return to Taris, but to do so at the Imperial station in orbit above the planet. He concentrated for a minute as his long-range shuttle was tractored into a hangar bay, masking his Force signature to hide his Jedi training from any Sith that were on the station.

The man who stepped off the shuttle looked very little like the Jedi he really was. He wore a maroon durasteel cuirass with dark green trim, trousers made of a heavy ballistic fabric, and a quick-draw holster holdign a customized blaster pistol. He tried not to exaggerate a swagger as the lift fromt he hangar stopped at the main level.

 _Orbital stations are the same all over,_ he thought. _Doesn't matter if they're Republic, Imperial, or Cartel. Well, okay, the Hutts' stations smell a lot worse._

Gathering his courage, Varek approached an Imperial soldier manning a security station.

"Greetings, hunter," the Imperial asked in a clipped Dromund Kaas accent. "What brings you to Taris?"

"I'm looking for someone," he replied, displaying a holo of Ashara. "A Togruta female, twenty Galactic Standard years of age, last seen in the company of a Zabrak Sith . . . and a Dashade. They would have come through a few weeks ago."

"A Dashade!" the Imperial gasped, then regained his composure. "Who do you work for?"

"Darth Thanaton," Varek replied evenly, reinforcing the idea with a slight nudge of the Force. "I need to know the name of the ship they left on and the direction they were headed when they went to lightspeed."

The Imperial hesitated. "I don't want to get mixed up with Sith politics," he explained. "That's a ticket to 'early forced retirement', if you catch my meaning."

"No one will find out you helped me," Varek told him, again nudging his mind with the Force. "I'll even give you a percentage of the bounty, once I'm paid." He didn't like deceiving the Imperial in that manner, especially since technically there was no bounty. He only hoped the Jedi Council authorized a voucher for this bribe.

The Imperial did a quick search on his terminal, then looked up hesitantly. "The ship they left on was a _Fury_ -class light corvette named the _Dark Ghost_ , registered to a Lord Kallig," the officer stated. "The heading they left on would take them into Hutt Space."

"Thanks." Again Varek nudged the officer with the Force. "And you were simply helping a bounty hunter find his quarry." He just hoped that cover saved the officer unnecessary grief with his

"I was simply helping a bounty hunter find his quarry," the officer repeated in a monotone.

 _Ash,_ Varek thought, _I hope you're okay. More than that, I hope you're still_ you.

* * *

"The Jedi did you a serious disservice, acolyte," Darth Angral's holocron told Ashara as she sparred with the Dashade in the _Dark Ghost_ 's cargo hold. "Djem So is a form which relies on pure physical strength, intended for those warriors who are like this monster, solid muscle." Her lightsaber clashed against the Dashade's phrick alloy vibrosword, sparks flying with every blow and parry.

"That you are a skilled duelist despite that speaks of your true potential," Kal told her. Khem rumbled something. "What do you suggest, dark lord?" Kal asked the holocron, "Makashi, Ataru, or Juyo?"

"She would excel at all three," Angral mentioned after studying Ashara's form as she and Khem sparred. "A true Sith does not limit him or herself to any one style, but blends elements of all of them to achieve a unique style that is an expression of the duelist."

Ashara paused in her attacks, but never lowering the lightsaber from a defensive stance, warily eyeing Khem. "The Jedi didn't want me studying Juyo," she explained after a moment's hesitation. "They said it was an 'incomplete' style, that I lacked the..."

"It is not 'incomplete'!" Angral hissed. "It's brutal, effective, and unpredictable. The reason the Jedi don't teach it is because it is a distinctly _Sith_ style! It includes mental techniques that help to channel your aggressive feelings, turning them into power."

Ashara considered only briefly. "How do I begin?" She found that such an idea agreed with her on many levels.

A signal from the central holoterminal in the ship's lounge caught their attention. "Another time, acolyte," Angral said as the holocron turned itself off. Khem and Ashara holstered their weapons as they followed Kal into the lounge.

"It's a recorded message," Andronikos told them. A male figure appeared, projected into the air.

"My lord," the message stated, "it's Kaal, your disciple. Corrin is with me. Darth Thanaton attempted to convert us to his service, claiming you were dead. We of course didn't believe it. More importantly, we stole something from him, something to help you defeat him." This piqued Ashara's curiosity, and she could tell Kal's had been as well. "His agent has hounded us through every sector. We're over a mudball named Quesh now." There was the sound of an explosion from outside the recording's field of view, and the image flickered. "We're going dow-" Static.

She could feel Kal's anger rising. Hers rose as well, matching his. She didn't know why the message affected her, but at the moment she really didn't care.

"Set course for Quesh, Andro," Kal ordered.

"At once, my lord."

"If Thanaton robs you of your followers," Zash said, taking control of the Dashade, "you will appear weak in front of the other Sith."

"I know that!" Kal growled, releasing a powerful blast of Force lightning into the Dashade, his eyes blazing red. Even after Khem once again took control, evidenced by the Dashade's rumblings in its own language, Kal continued to assault it with lightning. Then, without warning, he stopped.

"If that witch wasn't so useful," he muttered, "I'd put the beast back in stasis for another thousand years." He turned to Ashara. "Ready to kill some Sith?"

"Born ready, Kal," she nearly purred.

"And if we encounter any Jedi?" he asked. "Will you be as ready or eager to kill them, should a fight break out?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I guess we'll find out."

* * *

Varek's shuttle sat in the hangar of a HoloNet hyperspace relay satellite near the border of the Empire and Hutt Space. It had taken him some time, but he'd tracked the _Dark Ghost_ 's movements from the past year: Prior to Taris, this Lord Kallig - only recently gaining the title, he'd discovered - had spent most of his time between Nar Shaddaa and Dromund Kaas, though he'd also been to Balmorra, Tatooine, Alderaan, Athiss, and Korriban.

"He spends an inordinate amount of time on Nar Shaddaa," he thought aloud. "What does he have there?" Typing on a keyboard, the answer soon appeared on a nearby monitor. "A cult of personality?" he read. "Taken by force from a Lord while still an apprentice . . . to a Darth Zash. Interesting. Let's see what I can find out about him."

He pulled up the information, and began speaking into a data recorder. "Oh, her. My mistake. 'Darth Zash'," he read, "'confirmed as a lord at age twenty-two, made a Darth at age thirty-two, following the inexplicable demise of her rival, Darth Skotia, which was attributed to her despite being at a high profile society function at the time.' I guess she had Kallig do the deed. 'Killed at age thirty-three by her apprentice, who she had just promoted to Lord.' Well, no surprises there. 'Described by both Thanaton and Skotia as reckless and ambitious.' Again, no surprises there. Huh, this is interesting. Official cause of death is 'classified'. Is that like saying Havoc squad goes on 'training exercises' behind enemy lines?" He sighed. _Looks like the answer is on Dromund Kaas. Into the belly of the krayt dragon._

A chime grabbed his attention. _A message to the_ Ghost, he thought. The message was only given one level of encryption, which he cracked easily. He made a copy of the message, then played it.

 _They'll be headed to Quesh_ , he thought. _The Council forbade me from confronting them, but that doesn't stop me from observing. And what better way to get information than first-hand?_

* * *

From orbit, Quesh appeared as a red, orange, and yellow ball, one orbiting a small and dim orange dwarf star. Possessing large orange oceans by continents that ran the gamut of shades of red, orange, and yellow, Quesh was not the most appealing of planets. In fact, the air and water were poison to most life, save perhaps the Hutts that controlled it. Yet life thrived there, plants and animals that had evolved there or brought in and had adapted to the toxic environment.

Kal, Ashara, and Andronikos adjusted their goggles and respirators as they and Khem approached the Imperial orbital station's medical officer. Ahead of them, a powerfully built male Sith Pureblood in Sith armor, complete with a floor-length black cape, a Human female in robes that appeared to be a mockery of Jedi robes, a Human male in an impeccable Imperial officer uniform, not a crease out of place, and a blue-skinned Twi'lek female in slave's clothes received immunity shots from a medical droid. The Force was strong and dark with both Sith, though Ashara thought the woman's Force signature felt, for lack of a better word, 'broken'.

The Twi'lek said something Ashara couldn't make out, but which sounded disparaging. The Pureblood barked, "I didn't ask you, slave!" and pressed down on the end of a metal cylinder. Electricity crackled on the Twi'lek's neck, causing her to spasm with pain. She may have murmured an apology, or an insult; Ashara couldn't tell which.

"Still enjoying the shock collar, I see," Kal said, stepping forward to greet the Pureblood. "She hasn't broken yet, Karn?"

"That's _Lord_ Karnage," the female Sith commented before turning to the Pureblood. "Let me kill them for you, master."

Khem rumbled something in its own language, and Ashara got the impression it wanted to eat the younger Sith. She shrugged inwardly; she suddenly realized she wouldn't object. The thought worried her.

"Then we speak as equals," Kal said, ignoring Khem. He turned to the female Sith. "I am Lord Kallig, and you should treat your master's equals with respect."

Karnage laughed heartily. "You made Lord, too, Kal? Excellent! You must tell me all about how it happened later. Does it have anything to do with this beauty of an apprentice at your side?" He leaned in to kiss Ashara's hand, though the respirator left the gesture without actual contact. Ash blushed a deeper shade of orange, while the female Sith scowled behind sickly yellow eyes.

"Not exactly," Kal said. "Lord Karnage, my apprentice, Ashara Zavros. I trust you remember Khem Val and Andronikos Revel. Ashara, this is Lord Karnage, an old acquaintance. His crew, Captain Malavai Quinn, Vette, and ..." He faltered. "You never told me your apprentice's name."

"Jaesa Willsaam," the woman offered. Ashara blinked.

" _ **The**_ Jaesa Willsaam?" she asked. "Master Nomen Karr's padawan, with the ability to...?"

"See the true nature of a person, yes," Jaesa finished, smirking. "And you, Miss Zavros, I sense a lot of doubt in you. Get over it. Embrace the dark, as I have."

Ashara's anger flared. "And you think I haven't?" she asked, drawing but not ignitng her lightsabers.

Jaesa laughed coldly. "No, little _padawan_ , you haven't. I sense guilt, a longing to return to and be accepted as a Jedi, despite how far you've fallen. You're weak. Pathetic."

At these words, Ashara ignited her blades and attacked the young Sith apprentice. Her red and black blades clashed against Jaesa's crimson saberstaff's.

"Fifty credits on the Togruta," Andronikos quipped, holding up a credstick.

"You're on!" the Twi'lek replied.

Jaesa's first attacks were powerful but sloppy, and soon Ashara's much more accurate and physically powerful blows had the other woman on the defensive. The Human girl attempted to blast Ash with a bolt of lightning, but Ash brought one of her sabers up to catch and absorb it. Ash felt Jaesa's sudden sense of fear, and she fed off it. She drew it into herself, fueling the power of her attacks.

Ash forced Jaesa against a wall and then onto her knees as she continued her assault. The Togruta kicked the saberstaff out of her opponent's hands, causing it to sail through the air, the now deactivated hilt narrowly missing an approaching Imperial trooper's head.

She drew back her blade to deliver the killing blow . . . .

"Enough!" Karnage commanded. "Kallig, call off your kath hound." Reluctantly, Vette handed Andronikos a credit chip.

"Your apprentice needed a lesson in arrogance," Kal explained. "She brought this on herself, and her own weakness was revealed. Why shouldn't she be culled?"

Ash looked at the Sith at her feet. She didn't pity the woman; in fact, she felt nothing but contempt for her. Still, she closed her eyes, attempting to see the big picture. "I should kill you," she told Jaesa. "Any other time I would have. But we are not enemies, yet." She extinguished her lightsabers and held her hand out to the other woman. Jaesa sneered, but accepted the hand up anyway.

"My lord," the approaching trooper said, "I believe you dropped this." He handed the hilt back to Jaesa.

* * *

"How did Jaesa get so ... broken?" Ash asked Kal during the shuttle trip down to Quesh's surface. "Her aura in the Force was fragmented, more than any other Sith's I've encountered."

Kal considered this. "Karn - that is, Lord Karnage - spent much of the last year hunting down and systematically killing everyone she had attachments to: her first master on Tatooine, her parents, even her old boss on her home planet of Alderaan from before the Jedi discovered her unique talents. I found out he captured and tortured Nomen Karr for hours, which drew her to him. Then he defeated her easily, Her opened her eyes to the Dark Side of the Force in the most brutal way possible, then had her kill her old Jedi master." He sighed. "Karn is particularly brutal, even among the Sith. The word 'subtle' is not in his vocabulary. Still, I suspect he is the only one other than her parents to see Jaesa as a person, something other than a tool."

"She scares me," Ash admitted. "Not much scares me, not even most Sith, but she does."

"Why?"

Ash considered this before answering. "She's insane. With you, there's a method to your actions. You use your emotions, but aren't ruled by them." He nodded, motioning for her to continue. "She... I could sense she's ruled by her emotions. The moment she felt fear, she panicked."

"Doesn't sound like someone to be afraid of," Andronikos mentioned. "A panicking enemy may be unpredictable, but they'll probably flee instead of fighting unless completely cornered."

"It's not exactly her I think I'm afraid of," Ash continued. "It's more of ending up like her."

"You won't," Kal told her. "I didn't break you into pieces before introducing you to the Dark Side. It called to you, and you answered. By what you told me, you were headed there anyway."

"Either way," she said, "I hope we don't run into her again for a very long time."

* * *

Through a set of macrobinoculars while atop a nearby hill, Varek watched the Imperial shuttle land on a rooftop. He was still dressed as a bounty hunter, which given his current assignment he found particularly ironic, if useful.

He watched as the quartet mounted speeders in the Imperial base and speed off to the north. He followed, though discretely, and from a safe distance.

 _Does Ashara sense me?_ he asked himself. _Does she still care?_ The Force provided no answers.

* * *

Sorry for the delay on this one. It took forever to transfer it from my notebook to Notepad, editing it in the process.


	6. Chapter 6

**My apologies for the long delay between the previous chapter and this one. First the holidays hit, then my computer needed to be rebuilt, and on top of that the dreaded Writer's Block Beast reared its ugly head.**

 **But the beast has been vanquished and the computer rebuilt.**

* * *

"I have a bad feeling about this, master," Ashara commented as the convoy of speeders came to a stop a few kilometrs north of the Imperial base on Quesh, outside a row of prefabricated buildings. "I sense only one person inside, shrouded in darkness. A Sith."

"I sense a trap," Andronikos said coldly. "One way in, one way out, and Thanaton's people likely know we're here."

"Our move, master?" Ash asked.

"We spring the trap," Kal told them. "Andronikos, Khem, stay alert for reinforcements. Ashara and I will handle this."

Inside, Kal and Ashara discovered signs of a fight: lightsaber burns on the walls, tables and light stands cut in half or smashed, and most importantly two human bodies - one male and one female - dead on the floor. Standing over the bodies was a man not much older than Kal or Ash.

"I sensed your arrival," the man told them. "Your followers put up quite the fight, for all the good it did them.

"You have a name to go on your tombstone?" Kal growled.

"Lord Cyneratus, at your service," the man said with a flourished bow. "No need to introduce yourself, Lord Kallig, or your Jedi pet." Ash bristled at this sneer, her anger rising. Cyneratus smiled. "Oh, maybe she's not _really_ a Jedi if she gets angry this easily," he continued. "Once you're dead, Kallig, I think I'll claim her as my own apprentice . . . and lover."

With a loud cry, Ashara ignited her red-black sabers and leaped at the Sith. Her blades met his crimson one, energy crackling where the sabers met. Although she had taken the offensive, she maintained a flurry of probing attacks and feints. Cyneratus, meanwhile, countered each blow and feint, maintaining a fencing grip on his lightsaber the whole time.

The fight continued on like this for several minutes, as the two fought throughout the building. The two found themselves on the ledge to a lift shaft.

"You've run out of room, my lord," Ash taunted him.

"Nonsense. You simply need to look down." She pushed his lightsaber away with one of hers, then spun and kicked him solidly in the chest. Cyneratus staggered backwards and fell down the shaft, but the sound of his body landing on the lift was followed immediately by his laughter.

"Ash, no!" Kal tried to warn her, but anger flared on her face. She leaped down shouting a war cry, both sabers prepared to impale Cyneratus. A burst of wind blew upwards, and then the lift came into view again. Despite Ashara's early lead, Cyneratus took the offensive, forcing Ashara onto the defensive as they fought, each step drawing her backwards toward Kal.

Without warning, though, Ashara smiled predatorily. Her opponent had left himself open in a crucial area. She changed the grip on her left saber, slipping past Cyneratus's guard to graze his shoulder, then his hip. He collapsed to the floor, dropping his lightsaber. She kicked it away; it clattered on the floor and down the lift shaft.

"What are you waiting for, Jedi," he scoffed in pain as she circled him. "Finish it."

"If I was still a Jedi," she explained, "I'd let you go, or arrest you and hand you over to the local authorities. You're defeated, weaponless. It's not the Jedi way to kill those who can't defend themselves. But the authorities here are the Hutts, and they don't care about stuff like this unless it directly affects them. This does not.

"If I was Sith," she continued, "I'd kill you in cold blood, or torture you for my own pleasure, prolonging your agony until you begged for death." She stopped circling him and stood over him, her red-black blade humming menacingly near his head. "Which am I to you?"

"So it's to be torture then. Are you really that far gone?" Cyneratus asked her.

"No," she replied evenly, coldly, "not torture. There is no death, only the Force." With that, she drew back her blade and cleanly sliced off his head.

"A piece of the Jedi Code before killing him like a Sith," Kal commented, moving to stnad beside her as she sheathed her lightsabers. "Intriguing."

"Did I do the right thing, Kal?" she asked softly. "I could still have let him go."

"Thanaton would have tortured him for failing," Kal explained. "As you said, the Hutts would have ignored this fight, and letting him go would have let him attack us later. You did what was necessary, giving him a mercy kill."

She sighed, still not fully convinced. "Let's get what we came for and get out of here."

* * *

Minutes after they left, Varek entered the building. Three bodies - two men and a woman, all human, the latter barely older than himself - lay dead on the floor.

One at a time, he knelt down and listened to the Force, attempting to get a read on their final moments.

 _Red blades clashed, and the hunter thrust his blade into the target's chest..._

 _The woman hung in mid-air, gasping for breath as the hunter squeezed his fist shut. The sound of bones crumbling filled her ears, and then silence, and blackness..._

 _"There is no death," Ashara stated coldly, "only the Force." With that statement, she decapitated the hunter with her own red-black blade..._

"She's murdering defenseless men and using the Jedi Code to justify it?" he asked himself aloud. "The man was a Sith and a killer, yes, but he could still have been brought to trial."

He pulled out his holorecorder. "Varek's log, Quesh. I'm worried about the path Ashara is on. He then explained all he had seen in the Force.

* * *

On board the _Dark Ghost_ , the crew sat (or in the Dashade's case, stood) around the tablein the room that doubled as a conference room and mess hall. Ashara sat at one of the far corners lost in throught as the others debated their next move.

 _Am I still a Jedi?_ she thought. _Am I now Sith and in denial about it? What other options are there?_ The Force itself gave her no answers.

"Hey, Ashara. Space to Ashara, you with us?" She looked up to see Andronikos standing over her.

"I'm sorry, Andronikos," she stammered softly, "I was meditating."

"Yeah, I figured as much," he told her. "Kal wants to speak with you privately in the engine compartment. You mind filling me in on what's going on in that head of yours?"

"I..." she paused, gathering her thoughts. "Have you ever wondered if you made a mistake?"

"I've made plenty of those," he said, taking a seat next to her. "Trusting my first mate, for one." They shared a smile; he'd told her some days ago how he had hooked up with Kal.

"But you didn't question that choice before he mutinied," she replied. "I'm wondering if I did the right thing, killing Cyneratus. I could have let him go, or maybe even recruited him."

"No one here would trust him," Andronikos explained, "and we'd all wonder if he was a spy for Thanaton. Not to mention, I really doubt Khem would let him live; that Dashade might think you brought him back a snack. For what it's worth, you made the best choice you could. It's a bit late for second-guessing. What matters now are the choices you make from here on out."

She took a deep breath, then stood up. "Thanks, Andro."

"Any time, kid."

They parted ways, with Andronikos working his way to the ship's bridge while Ash moved toward the engine compartment.

"Kal?" she asked. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," he said, looking up from the lone control station console. "You were out of it during the meeting, so I figured you didn't hear us decide to head to Korriban before heading to Hoth in search of our next ghost."

Ash furrowed her brow. "Korriban? Why there?"

"The two followers Cyneratus killed on Quesh were technically my apprentices," he explained, "though in reality I inherited them from my own master. We're headed to Korriban to speak with an old acquaintance about replacing them." The way he sneered the word 'acquaintance' made Ash wonder what was being left unsaid.

"Who is this 'acquaintance'?" she asked.

"Overseer Harkun, my first teacher. He hated me, and believe me the feeling was more than mutual. Actually, I think he had a boner for a particularly smarmy Pureblood who was taking the Trials at the same time I was." They shared a chuckle. "He's a blood purist, which is ironic since he's often stuck putting aliens through their Trials." He looked her over. "That reminds me, do _you_ want to take the Trials, making your status as my apprentice official?"

Ashara blinked in surprise. "Me? Take the Sith Trials? Are you sure I'm ready?"

"There is no 'ready' for the Trials," Kal explained. "They are designed to test one's strength. Those who fail the trials die."

"Truth is, Kal," she told him softly, "I don't know if I _am_ Sith. It turns out Jaesa was right; part of me yearns to return ot the Jedi. I ... I need to meet with a Jedi to be sure of my path." She thought for a moment. "And I know just the man: Master Cyman Wazz. He's retired, in seclusion on Alderaan, but many Padawans and even Knights still make pilgrimages to seek his wisdom. With your permission, master, I'd like to visit him, seek his wisdom."

Kal stepped close to her. "I didn't think I'd be losing you this soon." She wrapped her arms around him.

"It's not a loss, Kal," she told him, "just a temporary separation while I get my head on straight."

"Hurry back."

She leaned forward and kissed him. They separated slightly a few moments later, then returned to kissing, their passions for each other building and feeding the other's desires.

There was a quick burst of lightning, and the light of the console blew out . . . as did the rest of the power on the ship.

"Blast it, Kal!" Andronikos's voice echoed from the bridge.

* * *

On board his personal shuttle, Varek opened his eyes, coming out of his meditating trance as the HoloNet comm chimed. Reaching out with the Force, he flipped a switch, rerouting it to his chambers. The holographic image of Master Syo Bakarn illuminated the chamber.

"Master Bakarn," Varek greeted him, bowing his head respectfully.

"Knight Varek," Bakarn responded, likewise bowing. "I trust you are well. The Council has read yor latest report. Disturbing news, assuming the vision was accurate."

"I have no reason to doubt the Force, master," Varek explained evenly.

"I believe you. The Council would like to remind you of your primary mission, however." Varek stiffened slightly; he know what Bakarn was going to say next. "There are some on the Council that believe you are too close to your fellow former Padawan to maintain an indifferent viewpoint. The Council insists that you backtrack Lord Kallig's trail, learning how he learned to bind Force ghosts. Master Oteg was very insistent on this point, for reasons I won't go into now. We will assign another to discretely follow Kallig ... and Zavros."

"With all due respect, master," Varek objected, "would not a first-hand account of the binding give more information than a second-hand account, assuming there _are_ any witnesses to the prior bindings?"

"That is why we are assigning a shadow to follow Lord Kallign's movements. Your assignment is to head to Dromund Kaas to determine how he learned this technique and why. Is that understood, Knight Varek?"

"Yes, Master Bakarn." As the hologram faded, however, a flicker of resentment appeared in Varek's heart. "If anyone can save Ashara from the darkness," he muttered to himself, "it'll be someone she knows, not a stranger." _It's like they_ don't _think she can be saved._ The thought chilled him.

* * *

Days later, Varek's shuttle landed in the spaceport outside Kaas City. As he stepped out of the spaceport, the full force of the humid jungle hit him, slipping through his bounty hunter armor disguise. He didn't think he'd ever sweated as much from the heat as he did then.

A thought struck him, though; he didn't have the slightest idea of where in the nearby city or the surrounding jungles to begin his search.

As the taxi brought him into the heart of Kaas City, he looked around. A massive skyscraper, bordering on being a steep metal pyramid, dominated the city, but other skyscrapers filled the skyline. Millions of people bustled through the streets. If not for the perpetual overcast, the flashes of lightning from the constant storms, and the oppressive heat, not to mention the gloominess of the black and dark red decor he could _almost_ believe he was on Coruscant or Nar Shaddaa. Almost.

With little else to go on, despite the dangers of the move on a Sith planet, Varek opened himself up to the flow of the Force and began walking. At first he expected to head toward the central building - the Citadel, he learned it was called by overhearing a couple people talking - but instead he found himsef walking through an area under heavy construction. The thought humbled him - they were expanding the city, and what he saw of daily life among the citizens didn't seem so different from the rest of the galaxy, despite the near omnipresence of Imperial soldiers.

After crossing over a bridge, which seemed to span an area where the construction headed down instead of outward, he found himself outside the city proper. Here, dirt paths replaced ferrocrete roads, trees replaced durasteel buildings.

And still the Force guided him onward.

Eventually he came to a stop outside an ancient stone tomb. The feeling of the Force coming from inside felt extremely cold, as if something hd sucked all the jungle heat away.

 _This must be it,_ he thought.

Slowly, cautiously, he entered the tomb, the glow of his glowrod illuminating the moss-covered stone walls.

* * *

At the same time Varek's shuttle landed on Dromund Kaas, another shuttle landed at the spaceport run by House Thul on Alderaan.

Ashara wrapped her black woolen cloak around her. The chill mountain air occasionally blew in gusts of wind, making it seem colder than it actually was. Despite that, the city of Thul - for each House's castle was essentially a small city in its own right - bustled with activity.

She stopped to check a news holo. Despite the arrest of the usurper king Bouris Ulgo and his wife, Queen Natashya, by a joint Republic and Imperial strike team several months back, the war for the throne - and hence whether Alderaan would rejoin the Republic or join the Empire - between Houses Organa and Thul was as fierce as ever, with neither side giving an inch, either in the war itself or in the peace talks that seemed to pop up almost at random during various lulls in the fighting.

She wasn't sure which side in this war she supported. As a former Jedi,s he figured she should support House Organa, but as an apprentice to a Sith she wondered when she would be called upon to support House Thul.

 _At least Ulgo didn't hesitate to grab power,_ she thought, _even if their bid failed. Should have been smarter about it._ The thought surprised her. _That's no the thought of a Jedi,_ she told herself. _Is it the thought of a Sith?_

Driving such thoughts from her mind, she approached one of the thranta drivers.

"My lord," he greeted her, bowing. "How can I serve you today?"

"I need to get to a clearing," she told him. "Forty clicks due east of House Baliss." She gave him a datapad with directions and coordinates.

"Of course, my lord. I know the clearing," Inwardly she smiled, though she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. "The one with the Jedi master. Here to eliminate him, finally?"

She waved her hand. "No questions asked."

"No questions asked," he monotoned in agreement.

Thrantas, she discovered, were a species of animal native to Alderaan, often used as mounts, which resembled aquatic rays found on other worlds, except that thrantas flew through the air, never comign to land; at best, they hovered only a few feet off the ground. She'd seen similar beasts on Dantooine early on in her first days as a Jedi, before being relocated to Taris.

As they flew over the treetops, Ashara found she enjoyed the feel of the wind in her face and over her montrals. _The Jedi deny themselves even these simple pleasures,_ she thought. _If I go back, I'd have to give this up. Or is it possible to be a Jedi and still indulge in such simple pleasures?_

Eventually the thranta driver angled the reins, as the thranta lowered itself into a clearing. An old man sat crosslegged in the center of the clearing, his brown and tan robes frawyed along the edges, his long unkept white hair flickering in the wind. A simple white bandage wrapped around his head, covering his eyes.

Ashara dropped off the thranta and waved it away. Reluctantly it did so, giving Ashara and the old man some privacy.

"Come closer, child," the old man said firmy and evenly. "I sense much conflict in you, but you have nothing to fear from me."

"Master Wazz?" she asked. He nodded. "I wasn't told you were Miraluka."

"Would it matter?" he asked, his expression and even tone never changing, no hint of either annoyance or amusement apparent. "But no, I am human. I simply lost my eyes in the Great War. Come, sit." He motioned to a space in front of him. "It is rare that one so steeped in darkness yet conflicted comes to me."

Ashara hesitated and sat on her knees in front of him.

"Master," she began, "I -"

"You wonder if the light holds answers the dark does not," he said, interrupting her.

"Quite the opposite," she said. "I am a Jedi who felt the pull of the dark, the same darkness that caused an ancestor to become Sith."

Silence hung in the air as he contemplated this.

"No," he said finally, "you are not a Jedi, so steeped in darkness as you are." Ashara felt her anger start to rise. "That statement angers you. A true Jedi does not get angry. A true Jedi does not feel sadness, or joy, or any emotion at all. By purging all emotion, a Jedi follows the will of the Force. At peace."

"The Sith are on the rise again," she told him. "A war rages. There is no peace in the galaxy anymore. Are you suggesting the Jedi just give up, let the Republic fall?"

"Peace must come from within," Master Wazz explained. "Only when you are at peace can you throw off the shackles of emotion."

Ashara stood up and started pacing. "The Jedi and the Sith fight," she stated. "The Republic and Empire are at war. Alderaan is at war with itself."

"There is no emotion, there is peace," he stated calmly. "Their emotions, like yours, rule them."

"Don't spout Jedi platitudes at me," she countered. "Without emotion, what makes life worth living?"

"Sit, child, please," he implored her softly. "Join me in peace."

"Peace is a lie," she told him, her voice firm. For the first time in her life, she knew her path, and knew it didn't lie with the Jedi. "The only peace is in death."

"There is no death, only the Force," he told her calmly.

 _He wants to die,_ a voice in her head told her. She could not disagree. She circled around behind him.

"Then let the Force set you free," she stated coldly, igniting her lightsaber and plunging it into his back. "I may not be a Jedi anymore, but you are no Jedi either, meditating in a clearing instead of fighting against the darkness like a Jedi should." She closed her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them again, their color had changed from blue to yellow.

* * *

On Tython, Jedi Grand Master Satele Shan's eyes snapped oven as she meditated in her chambers.

"Oh Cyman," she sighed.

 _Do not grieve, my friend,_ she heard his voice tell her in the Force, _for I am finally truly at peace._

A single tear fell from her eye anyway.

* * *

On Dromund Kaas, Varek stumbled, falling to his knees. A sharp pain burned his chest, though he knew there was no physical would.

"Ashara, no!" he called out. The cry echoed in the tomb.

* * *

On Korriban, Kal and Helm stood evaluating a line of prospects - a male yellow Twi'lek, a Gran, a brown-haired human boy, and a Kaleesh - as an older man, Overseer Harkun, sneered at them.

A wave of darkness in the Force passed over them; only Kal, Harkun, the Twi'lek, and the Kaleesh seemed to notice.

"What was that?" Harkun asked softly.

Kal simply smiled. "My other apprentice passed her Trial of Sacrifice," he explained. "She's now more Sith than most. Probably moreso than _you_."

* * *

Ashara stood over the body of her latest kill, her first true _murder_ ; he hadn't even put up a fight the entire time, unlike the others she'd killed. Her now yellow eyes betrayed her emotions.

 _I can't go back,_ she thought. The thought actually gave her comfort. _I don't_ want _to go back. Somehow, I've always known my path led to darkness, like my ancestor._

"I am Sith," she said finally, breaking the silence of the clearing. Inside, she knew it was not a choice, but a revelation. "Like my grandfather Kolotosh before me. If the Jedi desire the peace of the grave so much . . . then I will help give it to them."

Reaching out with the Force, she pulled the hovering thranta down and leaped onto its back, before it flow off into the sky.

* * *

Recovering from the sudden chest pain, Varek made his way deeper into the tomb. Eventually he came to a ruined sarcophagus surrounded by the bones of many humanoids, some of which were not yet fully picked clean of meat.

"Who were these folks?" he asked aloud, mostly to himself. He didn't expect an answer, but he got one anyway.

" _They were those Thanaton wanted to be rid of,_ " a cold calculating voice told him. As he looked around seeking the source of the voice, a figure appeared in front of him, coalescing into the ghostly apparition of a long-dead Sith Lord, if the figure's mask and choice of dress were any indication. " _The flesh of my flesh would have been one of them, had I not intervened._ "

"Who are you?" Varek asked, uncertain as to whether the Sith ghost was a threat to him. Still, he made no move for his lightsaber, or his blaster; he figured neither would be of help against a Force ghost.

" _I was known as Lord Kallig in life,_ " the specter replied. " _That name, though claimed by my descendant, will suffice. I did not expect to find a Jedi seeking Sith teachings, especially one that is almost untouched by the darkness._ "

"So it was you who taught ... your descendant to bind Force ghosts."

" _No,_ " Lord Kallig replied. " _I did not, not directly at any rate. I told him where to look._ "

"Why tell me all this?" Varek asked.

" _The flesh of my flesh have an affinity with Force ghosts. One of my family is to restore our name to greatness. Another, one I did not expect, stands before me a Jedi._ " To Varek's disbelieving expression, Lord Kallig nodded. " _Yes, flesh of my flesh, you are of my blood, and may one day learn the Forcewalking ritual._

" _If you survive the coming year,_ " he finished as he faded from view, though his chortling echoed in the chamber.

 _How do I explain_ this _to the Council?_ Varek asked himself.

* * *

 _ **Welll, Ashara is now fully Sith. But the story does not end here, folks! I suspect there will be one, maybe two more chapters before the story is finished.**_


	7. Chapter 7

Varek knew he was going against orders, but he felt he had no choice. In his mind, the Jedi Council was beng too passive, watching instead of acting to save a Jedi from the Dark Side. His personal shuttle dropped out of hyperspace above the frozen blue-white sixth planet in the Hoth system mere minutes after an Imperial long-range transport. As the transport docked alongside an orbital station, Varek guided his shuttle into a nearby hangar. Unobserved by him, the _Dark Ghost_ also dropped out of hyperspace as he landed.

Still dressed as a bounty hunter, a helmet hiding hid face, he found an unobtrusive spot to watch the transport's few passengers disembark. Most of them, he observed, were Imperial technicians, though he noted a few cold-weather troopers and a handful of Reclamation Service officers among the crowd.

Then he saw Ashara.

She had definitely changed since he'd seen her last. Where before she had seemed impatient and arrogant, eager to prove herself, she now seemed confident, authoritative, commanding. Gone was the bulky heavy armored coat and leg-plates she'd worn on Taris; in their stead was a form-fitting set of black armor, seeming almost like a second skin, with a black long-sleeved woolen robe over it. Her robe's hood covered her montrals, hiding most of her face, but the blue markings on her forward lekku were unmistakable.

"Ashara..." he said softly before he realized it.

Her head snapped up, fixating on him. He gulped as her now-yellow eyes met his from across the hangar.

 _Of course she heard me_ , he thought. _Her montrals pick up **everything**._ He held his breath as she strode purposefully toward him.

Ashara scowled as she approached the bounty hunter. She knew that Force aura, even though she could tell he was trying to suppress it. She threw her hood back as she stepped in front of him.

"Varek," she greeted him. "I knew I felt you on Quesh. Why are you here?"

"Is there somewhere we can talk, Ash? In private?"

She gave a curt nod, then led him over to a side storage bay.

"Well?" she demanded.

Varek removed his helmet, setting it on a nearby crate. "I was worried about you," he explained. "I've been following your path as best I could since you ... since Taris."

"Since I killed that fool Master Ryen on Taris, you mean."

"He was a good man," Varek tried to explain.

"He held me back!" she hissed, interrupting him. "And he coddled you. I bet you _still_ can't use a lightsaber."

"Why did you do it?" he asked her. "Why join the Sith? Why did you fall?" These were questions that had plagued him for months, questions which he so far had no answers, only speculation.

Ashara locked eyes with Varek, her yellow eyes reflecting in his brown ones, and his in hers. Through the Force she probed for any hint of deception from him. Although she was prepared to smash through his mental defenses, he surprised her by willingly lowering them.

Satisfied by what she felt in his mind, she began relating her tale. She told him of Lord Kallig contacting her on Taris, of the vision she'd had before that which Master Ryen wouldn't even listen to, of the Sith assassin she'd defeated, of how Kallig encouraged her. She spoke of her initial doubts, her duel with Jaesa, and her choice to murder Master Wazz. She spoke of her growing affection for Kal, and their kiss.

Varek took it all in. He could see the patterns emerging. In many ways, he could see where every time a Jedi could have helped her, they inadvertently through their own _inaction_ pushed her farther away from them. The Sith Lord Kallig had taken advantage of that, he concluded. He felt pity for her, and yet could not deny that as a Sith she'd traded cockiness for confidence, and arrogant pride for determination. He'd always found her attractive, but he found the new Ash even moreso.

"I understand," he told her finally, "and I wish you the best."

"You're going to report all that to the Council, aren't you?" she asked him.

"I have to."

"No," she purred menacingly, suddenly grasping his head in her hands, "you will not." Varek screamed in pain as Ash forced her way deep into his mind.

It was a technique she'd learned from Darth Angral's holocron, based in part off the Jedi mind trick. Whereas the mind trick simply nudged a mind to be more accepting of a plausible suggestion, the technique Ashara used on Varek forcibly changed parts of his mind however she wished.

Varek mentally fought back with all of his strength. Ash's eyes narrowed; she hadn't expected him to have this strong a will, and pushed harder.

"You... will... not..." he groaned.

"You are _**MINE**_!" she countered.

With one final mental push, Ash punched through his mental defenses and into his mind. Now given free reign, she amplified that seed of resentment toward the Jedi she found buried, and altered his sense of loyalty. She smiled, a predator's cold satisfied smile.

Releasing his head, she pushed him away. He stumbled backwards and dropped to one knee to steady himself. To anyone else, though, it looked as though a bounty hunter was kneeling in supplication to a Sith.

"Whom do you serve _now_ , Varek?" she asked.

"You, my lord," he replied automatically. He blinked. "No, I don't. I serve the... you." His puzzled expression broke into one of anguish.

"That's right," she told him, cupping his chin in her hand. "You serve _me_ now, old friend. Not the Jedi, not the Republic. _Me._ You will be my spy among the Jedi, feeding me all you know and performing any task I give you, without hesitation. And you will hide your new loyalties from everyone else. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my master." He fought it. Intellectually he knew he should rebel, but Ash's rewiring of his mind ensured he could not.

"If anyone not working for myself or Lord Kallig asks who you serve," she asked, "who do you say?"

"The Jedi," he replied, "and by extension the Republic."

"Good. Stand up." He did so. "Now, go about your duties until I call upon you."

"My lord," he told her, as Kal and the rest of the _Dark Ghost_ 's crew approached, "the Jedi have assigned a shadow to follow Lord Kallig. I don't know who."

Ashara pondered this. "Find out who and quietly eliminate them," she commanded. With an, "As you command, my master," Varek grabbed his helmet and left.

"That was your old friend from Taris, wasn't it?" Kal asked Ashara as he approached. "Have you turned him to the Sith, too?"

"Not yet," she explained, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. "I just forced him to serve me. We'll see if he has the strength to do what is necessary later."

"I take it your pilgrimage to that Master Wazz helped you?" Andronikos asked her.

"I killed him," she replied coldly. "I know my path, and myself. I am Sith."

"And as soon as I have the authority," Kal told her, "I'm promoting you to the level of Lord of the Sith. You are worthy of it."

"'Lord Zavros'," she purred, rolling the name across her tongue. "It has a nice ring to it."

"Come," Zash told them, "we have a ghost to bind."

* * *

Espionage was not a skill set typically taught to Jedi. For one thing, the deception involved almost inevitably ran contrary to the Jedi ideal of honesty. Despite that, a small number of Jedi in each generation going back thousands of years completed their training working for and/or alongside intelligence agencies. And sometimes, in rare cases, these Jedi passed their knowledge to their padawans and other students they deemed worthy.

Unknown to Ashara, Master Ocera had been assigned to the Strategic Information Service during the Great WAr, and had passed much of that knowledge and skill to Varek. However, while Varek had the theoretical knowledge, he was still inexperienced in the practical aspects. Still, he had survived undetected posing as a bounty hunter for a few months at this point.

And one of a spy's greatest mental assets is the ability to become their cover identity, burying their true personality behind the cover. And sometimes they had a cover over their cover. And for someone trained in the Force, sometimes the cover personality could have other uses, particularly when expecting a mental assault.

Varek sighed as he removed the copy of his mind he'd put in place between his real mind and Ashara's crude yet forceful attempt to alter his mind.

 _That skill was stronger than expected,_ he thought to himself. _Still, she fell for the ruse. She'll be more trusting of me now, so long as I give her no reason to doubt me._

 _Now I just need to find the other shadow and fool Ash into thinking I've eliminated him._

Finding a Jedi Shadow was not easy, he had to admit. Most of them were trained to hide in the Force, both by cloaking themselves physically, rendering them near-invisible to the naked eye and most sensors, and by altering their Force signatures. Most, like Varek, simply suppressed their Force aura to make them appear "Force-blind"; a select few others could "disappear" from the Force entirely, as if they weren't there at all. So finding the Shadow tailing Lord Kallig in the Force was not an option.

Fortunately, Varek had been taught more mundane tracking skills in the swamps of Taris, where tracks disappeared faster than on Hoth.

When tailing a person, there are three main ways to tail him: keep the guy in your sights at all times, follow the tracks, or figure out where he's going and beat him there, laying in wait. Only an amature relies solely on the first option; these folks are usually too obvious, having learned it from watching too many espionage technothriller holodramas. A good tracker uses the second option to lead into the third.

Another great truth is that everyone relaxes when surrounded by their own people. Even the most security-conscious Jedi lowers their guard slightly in Republic outposts, and even more in Jedi enclaves. It was unlikely that the Shadow arrived in the Imperial base like Varek had, due to having been just assigned, so he rode out on a tauntaun north, stopping only long enough - once he was out of sight of the Imperials - to cover his bounty hunter armor with his Jedi robe, securing his lightsaber to his belt.

Approaching Aurek Base's sentries, he waved as two of them called him to a halt.

"How's it going, fellas?" he asked cheerfully as they inspected the ID he handed them.

"A Jedi?" the one commented. "You guys are getting popular."

"What brings you here?" the other asked.

"I was tracking a Sith Lord not too far south of here," Varek explained, "when I received a message indicating I was to assist a fellow Jedi. Have you seen any leave here recently?"

"You just missed 'em," the first sentry replied. "Two big-name Jedi - the Hero of Tython and the Barsen'thor - and a Master Tuno headed southeast toward the ravine. The Hero went to help out Sergeant Suicide Rusk, the Barsen'thor to assist the Rift Alliance forces, and Tuno to aid some privateer against the White Maw."

"Also some quiet woman," the other sentry added. "We weren't able to get much out of her, but she booked a speeder straight to Zerek Outpost near the Graveyard."

"The Graveyard?" Varek asked. "That would be the starship graveyard where all those ships went down during the War, correct?"

"Yes, Master Jedi," the first sentry confirmed. "The White Maw are entrenched there. Even a Jedi will need help against their numbers."

"Thanks much," he told them. "How long ago did she leave?"

"Just missed her," the second replied. "Not more than fifteen minutes."

"Thanks again."

He headed over to the base's speeder service, leaving the tauntaun behind - speeders could travel much faster than tauntauns, after all, and booked passage on the next taxi speeder out that way.

 _Someone in the archives must have figured out the ghost's location_ , he thought.

While waiting, he transferred his conversation with and observations about Ashara to a database. He just hoped the other shadow would agree to his planned ruse and take it to the Council. He inwardly dreaded what might happen otherwise.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

I apologize for how late and short this chapter is, particularly relative to the other chapters.. I ran up against the writer's block beast a few months back when I got this far, and haven't yet wrangled it into submission. So I figured I'd share what I have.

Feedback is greatly appreciated.


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